


Black Hair Black Hands

by whatsanapocalae



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Jewish Character, Long Hair, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Showers, Teasing, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-11-08 13:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae
Summary: Yet another first time between Jensen and Pritchard, this time in the middle of winter, inspired by isko's amazing art: https://iskodraws.tumblr.com/post/176395049612/one-more-before-i-go-to-bed-because-i-realized Sorry about the Christmas talk, we're already selling that stuff at my work.





	1. Chapter 1

Detroit was a cold city during the winter, but this was even worse than usual. They’d done what they could to save the planet but it was already pretty fucked by the time the politicians and CEOs had finally curbed their carbon emissions to stop global warming. The winters were now extremely cold to offset it. This one was going to be tough. 

It was cold enough that everyone in the office, even with the thermostat raised as much as corporate would allow, was sporting a sweater of varying degrees of style. Pritchard sneered at the multitude of ugly Christmas sweaters. He’d never understood the appeal of wearing something so gaudy on purpose. His own turtleneck had been replaced with an elegant navy blue sweater and, while he wasn’t much for decorating his office, he was considering it, just to piss off everyone with their Christmas décor with the reminder that this wasn’t a Christian company and not everyone celebrated Christmas. 

He wasn’t expecting Jensen to be wearing a sweater though, coming in from the helicopter pad with a shudder and a fine dusting of snow on that expensive black coat he was always wearing. He would have thought that his augments would keep him warm enough. He almost asked about it, as they rode up to Sarif’s office in silence, for a debriefing. There was a hint of blush against Jensen’s cheeks, a bit of red on the tip of his nose. Pritchard tried not to stare. He tried not to brush his fingers against Jensen’s hand to see how cold the polymer was. 

Compared to the rest of the building, Sarif’s office was a sauna. He was dressed as usual, in a black shirt and gold vest, and the fire in the fireplace was roaring, bathing everything in flickering red reflections and blessed heat. Jensen relaxed visibly in the warmth. They stepped in and took their seats while Sarif prattled on about the building that Jensen had ransacked for information. Pritchard kept his eyes down, hearing the praise that came so easily from Sarif for his favorite employee, having never heard something from the man directed at himself. He knew his place in Sarif Industries, he wasn’t surprised by that, nor how often Sarif called Jensen ‘son’, not anymore. 

The black jacket came off before Jensen rose and went over the information that he’d gathered from the experience. While a full report would take longer and Pritchard was the one who had all of the encrypted intel that Jensen had downloaded and transferred to him, there were some things that couldn’t be caught in such a binary way. What he’d overheard and read in actually hand written notes, were the majority of it. 

Pritchard was only half paying attention. This whole thing didn’t really matter to him, it all mattered to Sarif and the betterment of the company. Still, it was a joy to watch Jensen present. The man wasn’t very animated but there was a way that he rocked when he spoke and there was the nervous way that his eyes would move around the room instead of making eye contact. It was no wonder that he wore his lenses up as much as he could. His voice was gravelly and mostly monotone but the vibrations, Pritchard could swear they traveled through the desk when he touched it. His hands moved too, small little gestures, opening and closing, the gold knuckles catching the light beautifully as they rolled. 

The thing he had to ignore most though, while Jensen spoke, was how his sweater hugged his chest. It was loose enough to hide the typhoon ports but not loose enough to hide his musculature. Even though the room was hot and relaxing, something in Pritchard felt tight. 

When he sat back down his knee touched Pritchard’s just for a moment. Pritchard was much more animated in the way that he presented, letting himself go on tangents as he got into the more technical. Sarif told him to get on with it a few times and Jensen snorted when he got too excited about the benign but they got through it all alright. 

At the end, Sarif took a moment to talk to Athene, make some appointments or something of the like. Pritchard sighed and stretched. He didn’t sleep much when Jensen was on away missions, not because he cared but because he was busy trying to keep Jensen alive. With him back and safe and with how hot the room was, his exhaustion was starting to catch up with him. 

He ran a hand through his hair, finding it greasy and tangled, even with how tight he had it pulled against his scalp. He pulled band out of it and shook his head, letting his hair spread a bit before finger combing it. It wasn’t preferred, but it would work. He got the band stretched and ready to contain his hair again when he noticed that Jensen, still sitting at the table, was staring at him. 

“What?” Pritchard asked, glaring over at Jensen. 

His lenses were back over his eyes. He was hiding something. His shoulders were drawn, his chin resting in his palm. If it weren’t for the obvious tension in his body and they fact that he and Pritchard could hardly keep a civil conversation for more than a few minutes, he would have thought that Jensen liked what he saw. That and the fact that he knew what he looked like, greasy and skinny and pale with dark bags under his eyes, he wasn’t exactly anyone’s dreamboat. 

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” Jensen explained, nonchalant. 

“Did you think I kept it tied up all the time?” He countered. 

He wished that he could see Jensen’s eyes. He seemed to be looking somewhere, anywhere, everywhere, else. The pink tint to Jensen’s cheeks grew and Pritchard had never imagined that Jensen was the kind to blush. 

“No! It just,” Jensen paused, thinking. Pritchard grinned. Watching Jensen try to come up with the least embarrassing words, especially when he’d been this obvious in checking him out, was amazing. So amazing that Pritchard hadn’t yet come to the confusing realization that Jensen was checking HIM out and what that meant and how crazy that was because Pritchard knew what he looked like and he knew what Jensen looked like and exactly the kind of people that Jensen could get on looks alone. “It looks good down. That’s all, okay?”

Pritchard smirked at him, letting the band roll over his hand and slide onto his wrist. “That’s all? You look a bit more affected than that.”

Jensen pulled himself up to his feet, walked over to Sarif’s desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest, crossing his legs at the knee. He was closed off. With the shades and the perfect cut of his hair and beard, the sweater, the stance, he looked like some expensive art dealer. It was a good look, but Pritchard was nowhere near as obvious about feeling that way as Jensen was. 

“Look, it’s not,” Jensen shrugged and swallowed. He was practically squirming he was so uncomfortable. Pritchard would have to hack into the cameras of Sarif’s office to get a recording of this. “It’s nothing. Can you just drop it?”

Pritchard couldn’t. Not when he was having this much fun. 

He sauntered over. Or, at least, he hoped he was sauntering, it wasn’t exactly something that he did often. He got close, right up in Jensen’s space. Jensen unfolded, put his hands on the desk behind him and he actually spread his legs a little bit. It was as if he wanted Pritchard in his space. 

“You want more than that, I can tell. You may think you’re some big super spy, but your tells are all laid bare.”

Jensen’s shoulders relaxed. He exhaled a long shaky breath. Pritchard’s heart was pounding in his chest. He’d never expected to get this sort of reaction. This was just supposed to be a bit of light teasing, but shit, he hadn’t expected Jensen to be so responsive. He’d wondered, for a long time, what it would be like to get under Jensen’s skin and now he was finding it to be quite warm in there, the heat spreading in his chest and down. 

“You want Sarif to find you harassing me?” Jensen shuddered from something other than the cold. 

“It’s only harassment if it’s unwanted.” He pushed closer, his mouth only inches away from Jensen’s. He was teasing, taunting, inviting. 

“Francis,” Jensen hissed and, while Pritchard didn’t often like being called Francis he loved the way it sounded coming out of Jensen right then. 

He pulled away though, going back to the desk to collect his files. The door opened shortly after and Sarif reappeared, none the wiser and a little bit confused at how flushed Jensen was by his desk. There were a few short sentences to close up the meeting, mostly what Sarif was planning next, and they were finally released to their own tasks. 

He held himself together in the elevator, even though he could feel hysteria growing in his throat. He had his arms crossed. He had the feeling that he was being watched, more than just by the cameras, but by Jensen, because he was staring, standing across from him, so much farther away than he had been on the way up. He’d fucked up, he knew that. He shouldn’t have said all that, he shouldn’t have enticed. He’d been so interested in Jensen for so long, he’d never imagined he’d allow himself such a stupid mistake as to actually act on it, and in the way that he had too, was so foolish. They rode in silence and, when they reached their floor Pritchard power walked out of there and to his apartment without a word. 

He slammed and locked his door before sliding down it, burying his face in his hands as the anxiety rushed through him. He was giddy, giggling like and idiot, while fear ran through him. In a fit of intelligence he pushed the button by the window and all of the glass went tinted and dark, hiding himself from the outside world. He didn’t want any of them to see him like this. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to be exposed like this. He hoped that the tint would be a sign to people that he was sleeping in his office again, nothing else. He couldn’t face their judgment if they knew the stupidity he’d just allowed himself to do. 

He hadn’t even noticed how cold he’d gotten in his own office. He was sweating from the panic and the heat in Sarif’s office, but as the panic subsided his own office’s chill started to set in. He got up, went over to the little couch that he’d used as a bed far too many times, and pulled out the blanket from underneath it. Wrapping it around his shoulders he tried to pretend that the entire meeting with Sarif hadn’t happened, tried to go back to work. The moment he read the new email on his computer though, the panic was all back. 

“You want to come over tonight?” -A Jensen

It was like getting a small electric shock right to his spine. Yes, he wanted. He’d wanted for years, but Jensen was with Megan or was an asshole or was straight or one of a million other reasons. The one that he’d always put at the forefront of his mind was that Jensen hated him. 

“Only if your place is warmer than here.” He wanted to seem casual, like he wasn’t about to have a panic attack. He’d been so confident in Sarif’s office. He didn’t know how he’d managed that. He wanted to throw up now. 

“I’ll make sure it’s warm. You need a ride or are you going to freeze to death on that bike of yours?” -A Jensen. 

Pritchard huffed. He hadn’t biked all week. He’d been on public transportation. He wasn’t such an idiot that he’d take a motorcycle out on these icy roads. If he didn’t spin out he’d get burned by the ice in the air. “A ride would suffice.” A million dirty jokes rose up in his head and he hoped that Jensen wouldn’t make any of them. “I’m going to need a shower too.”

He waited a few minutes but there was no further response. He went back to work and, for once, he kept an eye on the time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot about this

Jensen’s car was nice. It was clean in the way that said it was still really new, even though there was a smattering of energy bar wrappers in the backseat. Pritchard sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, while Jensen drove. Any minute now, Jensen was going to talk and this whole thing would either be way over his head or he’d be made a laughing stock and kicked out of the car far enough away from home and work that he’d freeze to death before getting anywhere. 

Jensen sighed. Every muscle in Pritchard’s body tensed. “So, what was all that?” 

Pritchard froze and it was more than just the cold coming through the glass. “I, uh, I wanted to see how much I could rile you up.” 

Jensen whistled through his teeth, “Well, you definitely did that. So, I guess that means you’re coming over for my heating and shower, and that’s it?” 

Pritchard could feel his own pulse in his ears. Jensen actually sounded disappointed in that. He had to fight back against his own fear, the fact that he wanted to run away from all of this. He wanted things to go back to how they were but he also never wanted that. He’d been sitting to the side just wanting Jensen for so long, and now he might get that and he was terrified. He’d never been so afraid of having something more with someone before. Then again, he had to see Jensen almost every day. 

“What do you want it to be?” Pritchard switched the script. He hated having the attention on himself. 

Jensen cocked his head. “I never thought you were interested. You were always such an ass, I couldn’t imagine that you’d have anything but disdain towards me. If you were just making a fool of me then I’ll drop it and pretend it never happened but...” he paused. He worried at his lower lip. He suddenly looked very small. “I liked having you so close to me. I liked how you seemed to take control.”

Pritchard blinked at him. A lot. “Wait, you liked me leading?” 

Jensen nodded, minutely. He wasn’t taking his eyes off of the road. Maybe he was, Pritchard couldn’t tell. He wasn’t turning from it though. 

“I can’t fucking believe this.”

Jensen smiled but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was just a spreading of the lips, as if he was holding something back. Something like sorrow. 

“How long have you, well,” Pritchard drew up his legs, putting his boots on the seat, and wrapped his arms around them. “I always thought you were straight.”

Jensen chuckled and his features softened from what looked like the verge of tears. He still didn’t look happy, but he looked more relaxed. “Because of Megan?” 

“Yeah, and a lot of others.” 

“I didn’t think you were interested in anyone but yourself,” Jensen teased. 

“I’ve been interested. I’ve been interested in this one guy for years. He had a girlfriend though and all sorts of other issues. I didn’t want to be a rebound. I didn’t think I had a chance anyway.”

Jensen did glance over at him, just for a moment. “Am I some kind of stand in?” 

Pritchard smacked his arm lightly. “I knew you were all brawn and no brain but I didn’t think you were that dumb!” 

The chuckle was stronger, the smile staining Jensen’s face a bit longer. “Years? Shit.”

“Like I said, I thought you were straight. And even if you weren’t, I’m not exactly your type.”

“What is my type?” 

“Strong, independent, beautiful geniuses.”

That wasn’t a chuckle, that was a guffaw. Jensen even smacked the steering wheel he was laughing so hard. “You got me. I guess I do have a type. Not sure why you’re saying you’re not it though. You just described yourself to a t.”

That brought a blush to his face and he turned away from Jensen, a hand going up to his neck to rub at the bottom of his hairline. Strong? Definitely not, not in the same way that Jensen was. His idea of a workout was moving computer monitors. Independent? Sure, but only to the point that that he got in trouble for it. Beautiful, now that was a joke. In the right light, by the right angles, he could be handsome, but no one had said he was beautiful since he was a teenager and no one knew better. He was a genius though, he’d never argue against that. 

Jensen was looking at him, a small smile on his lips. Pritchard hated it. He knew that Jensen was just saying it as a form of payback. It felt good though, to be complimented. 

“It’s weird,” Jensen said, pulling him back to where they were, in the car, inching through the snow, old punk rock playing quietly on the radio. “I’m a snoop. And I’m terribly honest to the point that I get myself hurt. But neither one of us figured this out until now.” 

“If this is a mistake and we end up getting snowed in at your place, it’s going to be so awkward for you.”

“For both of us,” Jensen argued. 

“No, just you,” Pritchard crossed his arms. “I’ll be a delight.”


End file.
